Tribute to a School

When you have a brand new baby

and your mom dies your first-born’s, first week of kindergarten

you never forget the steady presence of


as gratitude swells  your heart forever.

And when that same kindergartener moves to first grade,

you thank HIS lucky stars, it’s


because no matter how distracted he is

she will find a way to love him.

And when the classrooms change and


becomes his teacher for the 4th year in a row

it’s no matter-

for with her, his thirst for learning is unquenchable.

And though, like most parents, you fear the demands of


you watch your son take charge

of himself and his work

with a glad heart

–and yours tugs when it’s time for him to leave this room;

though he, surprisingly, is


Ready and eager to move closer to the doors

that lead out of Marlboro Elementary School

And there,

like a butterfly

transforms from a child to young man


confidence & VOICE

so that you hardly think on teachers anymore

because in their art, the learning has become his.

Rachel & Tim

could be the names of anyone

who has traveled the months or years

or even a lifetime on the path of his education–

like the preschool faces of Timmy & Zoe and Ferne

And you can’t help but flash on all those

named and unnamed-

board members and budget voters and volunteers

parents & friends, coaches & subs

ALL those who have caressed his movement

along the learning way

like the tiny cilia moving an egg

toward its fullest


Mr. H, a lifeline, since day one

and Charlene’s music & dancing, from age 2

and Lauren with her smile

and there’s Pedro & Pam

David Tasgal & Ann

Nurses Susan & Whitney

Cindy to Wendy to Trowell to Chris

Wayne to Tim

Connie to Craig to Francie

Johnnie and Kirsten

Joanne to Janie & Christine

and all

the precious classroom assistants

who made it possible for a kid who preferred blocks until age 7

to learn to read

in HIS own time

so that now we must rip the books from his hands

to remind him to eat and to do chores and to talk

when once—TALKING– was all he did!

And was it poor Judy? or Jodi?

who gave the month of March over

to reading and no other pursuit

so that the words he once put OUT

FINALLY began to POUR in

And his classroom became

Cape Cod & New York

Costa Rica & DC

and marches on Capitols

lining up for rallies

door to door for a President

Leading to this moment where we find him



through the

EXIT of “old” MES

under the careFULL gaze of Gail

And home he’ll come

one last time

through yellow doors

delivered safely

once by Laura, forever by Gail

and seamlessly on toward Jackie.

I know now that it takes


to raise a child.

I’m so glad

that I chose



In gratitude for Lloyd’s 12 years of education in Marlboro, Vermont

with special mention to Paul at Meetinghouse School

where it all began

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